


Magical miscalculations

by Kammyh



Series: Throughout History and related dysfunctional FrUk [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Chibi America (Hetalia), Chibi Canada (Hetalia), Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Family, M/M, Magic, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21891760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kammyh/pseuds/Kammyh
Summary: England ends up summoning his and France’s mothers, who have therefore the unlucky chance to see how their sons have grown up and meet their grandsons. Requested sequel to How we met
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Series: Throughout History and related dysfunctional FrUk [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135742
Kudos: 30





	Magical miscalculations

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, I just own an unhealthy devotion to France (as a nation) and its history. English is not my mother language and neither is French, any constructive criticism is appreciated.  
> Warnings: Basically, this is the sequel of the prequel (How we met) crossed over with the main story (Throughout history) as requested by Reading Pixie, who wished to see France and England’s mothers interacting with their grandsons. It slightly got out of my hands, to be honest.

It was time to admit it: after too many years of fights and quarrels, England and France’s life was finally perfect.

Certainly, they were at war in India and in the best part of Asia. And in North America, obviously. And war was about to start also in Africa, even though they seemed to have reached some kind of agreement on the paper: they both knew it was not meant to last. Oh, and they couldn’t forget that England _had to_ reinforce his navy back at home, considering that France had been too quiet in Europe lately and he didn’t trust Frenchmen at all…

However, aside being at war with one another over the whole surface of the known world, things had never been better between England and France, and the island nation was glad that his life had turned out like this after they had finally talked about America and Canada’s situation.

After the French nation had extorted England the confession that they were their actual sons, in facts, they had begun meeting more frequently as a family. The definitive turning point had been the day in which the island nation had successfully kidnapped also their second child, making him live in his house -like he had done before with America- even though he was still fighting with his lover over their children’s domains.

Despite the fact that France still retained a firm hold of some lands in North America, then, England’s dreams of keeping his whole family tight together in one single place had become reality since, as predicted, after having gotten both their children France had been bound to come at his house way more frequently than before.

It was true that England had to admit that, if it had taken them plenty of years to come to this accommodation, it hadn’t been all France’s fault. Still, he had no actual intention to feel guilty about the way he had willingly kept France afar while he was busy feeling remorseful for having given them children through magic.

France was in his life expressively to be the cause of all his problems, therefore further examination of the reasons that had lead them to another century of wars was completely unnecessary.

If everything was fine, then, why was England so nervous about their current state of affairs? What was that fear he kept feeling and that had never really disappeared since he had failed conquering France that very first time back in 1214? Why wasn’t he able to quell his hunger for more, even though now his children were safe in his house and he was certain that his lover had eyes only for him?

Were the wars between England and France a problem greater than he thought it was?

Unable to find a solution to his dilemma, eventually England decided to resort to good old magic. Not knowing what the problem was, however, made finding the proper spell quite difficult, if not completely impossible. This became particularly true after England had come to the conclusion that what he needed was France permanently in his own house, since conquering another nation wasn’t among the things his usual magic was allowed to do.

He opened the prohibited tomes he had hidden in the depth of his secret cellar, then, thanking God that he had thought beforehand to bring them to the New World with him. He had just enough time to discover that nothing interesting was written even there, though, that France’s loud call reached his ears, apparently urging him to come upstairs, since lunch would be ready in an hour.

At a loss about what to do, England then started a fire under his cauldron and put inside of it -in a minimum dose- every ingredient he deemed helpful to his intent, together with some strands of his and France’s hair. Why he had reserves of France’s hair among his magical materials he didn’t allowed himself to think about.

When he was certain to have enough ingredients added to a base he didn’t even remembered what was for, he then tried to recall quickly all the magical words he knew meant to suggest “family”, “relation”, “conquest”, “France” and “England”, uttering them in random sequence and without any real logic behind it.

England was so focused chanting his impromptu mantra, that he didn’t notice the thick liquid inside the cauldron boiling each second more as he kept uttering the illogical sequence of words.

He noticed the disaster about to happen only when France busted inside the cellar yelling his name, unnerved by his lover’s lack of answer.

“ _Angleterre_!!” France repeated when he saw the scene in front of his eyes, this time his tone of voice sounding absolutely panicked as he rushed to envelope England in his arms and drag him far away from the cauldron just a moment before it exploded, blowing away both nations and covering them in ashes.

“Bloody hell…” England managed to mutter after some minutes of silence and dread, as he tried to re-emerge from beneath his lover.

Luckily for him, he had ended up relatively unscathed thanks to France protecting him with his body, something that couldn’t really be said of his lover, who had to work a bit more carefully to resurface from the ashes without getting them in his eyes.

“This is what _I_ should say!” France yelled back at England eventually, while he tried to shake away the worst of the debris from himself and his hair in particular. “What the hell were you doing!? You left me upstairs the whole morning with the children and with all the chores to do by myself: I’m not your frigging housekeeper!”

England understood that France was right.

France was completely right, no doubts about it… but seeing France’s blond hair completely pitch dark simply made England burst in peals of laughter despite his better judgement.

“Does it look funny to you?” France reprimanded his lover glaring back at him, oblivious of what was currently wrong with the younger nation.

“Your hair-” England attempted to explain, then, pointing to France’s once golden mane.

It didn’t take France much to follow England’s indications and notice the disastrous state of his hair.

“My poor hair…” France whined in discomfort as he picked up some strands of it by the ends that were barely brushing over his shoulders, eying them disheartened. “What the hell were you doing? I hope it was not some kind of permanent hair dye!”

“I was, well… improvising, actually.” England admitted vaguely, preparing himself to be screamed at.

“ _Angleterre_ , you don’t even fucking know how to cook!! If you can’t follow normal recipes, how can you think you can improvise potions and filters!!” France yelled back at England as predicted. “Besides, I thought you were sticking to spells and evocations!!”

“How do you _know_ I’m still practicing magic?” England took his chance to ask, considering that he was certain to have been quite good hiding his _hobby_. “No, wait, how did you know I was practicing magic _down here_ _right now_!??”

All France granted to his lover was a reproachful glare.

“I’ve known you since forever. I can guess what you are up to before you even think it.” He quipped annoyed, standing back on his feet to help up England too. “You will have to keep an eye on the kids while I go get a bath, I fear. I just hope that this thing wash away in reasonable time, or our lunch will get cold…”

“Let me go first, I will certainly be quicker than you.” England counter-proposed however, as he closed the distance separating him from his lover to assess the damages done to his hair and reassure him. “I could warm lunch up for you while you are getting rid of this.”

“Yeah, but I’m going to scare the kids if I get back upstairs like this,” France protested, despite smiling back at his lover as he took his time to caress his cheek. “Too bad that the children are still full of energy and awake, I wouldn’t have minded to share a bath with you~”

“I would have even washed your hair for you, considering it’s all my fault,” England dared to offer, moving his head up to capture France’s lips in a soft kiss. Well, if magic had failed, nothing prevented England to try keeping France with him the usual way.

“Too bad it’s unsafe trusting the kids by themselves,” France answered without much conviction, his willpower less and less strong as England kept kissing him gently and playing with his hair. “Even though… what harm can they do to themselves in just half an hour alone?”

As if on cue, they heard the noise of something crashing coming from upstairs, quickly followed by Canada’s loud cry. Both parents rushed to the stairs leading up to the living quarters, then, in order to check on their kids, quickly forgetting the mess downstairs and their own condition in favour of keeping the two child nations alive.

Luckily, as soon as they had reached the children and they could assess that there were no apparent damages, they felt greatly reassured and heaved a relieved sigh.

Apparently, the noise they had heard was just America hitting the coffee table and making a forgotten-in-a-dangerous-place vase crash on the floor, something that had made Canada panicking and burst in tears. Needless to mention that America had followed crying soon after, in a mix of guilt and companionship.

Since no one was hurt, however, England – the cleanest of the couple – simply smiled warmly at their children as he walked towards them.

“Now now, kids, nothing happened~” England attempted to reassure them, taking both of them in his arms and moving them away from the disaster, while France got rid of the ceramic shards and cleaned the floor so that it won’t be dangerous to the kids.

After having turned the room once again children-safe, France stared back at his lover, who was still unsuccessfully attempting to hush quiet their sons. He allowed himself just a moment to smile at the cute picture, before he took his chance to have finally a warm bath and attempt turning his hair once again golden blond.

As soon as he was back from his bath, France went to re-heat their meal and then switched place with England to cuddle the children, since they were still crying desperately and his lover needed to wash himself. Even by the time England was back and they were supposed to start on lunch, however, America and Canada were still so scared by the previous events that they refused to leave their French father’s embrace, no matter what their parents attempted to promise them.

“C’mon, kids, France can’t eat anything if you keep holding to him…” England in the end quietly reprimanded the child nations, who nevertheless just offered him a pitiful and tearful stare.

“I didn’t want to break the vase…” America whined disheartened, managing to tighten his hold onto France even more. “I did not want to…”

His brother, on the other hand, just kept sniffling quietly, until eventually resorted to simply hid his face against France’s chest.

“They’ve been like this all the time you’ve been in the bathroom…” France complained, heaving a sad sigh as he rested his lips on top of America’s head in a long and silent kiss meant to comfort the distressed child. “I guess I’ll have to re-heat lunch for the third time, because they seem to have no intention to let go.”

“Hmm…” England reasoned aloud, as he stared doubtful at the scene before try taking Canada in his arms. Unsurprisingly, Canada allowed England’s manoeuvre, only to drape his arms around England’s neck and hid his face there as soon as he could.

“Well, that’s an improvement.” England admitted, patting lightly the child nation’s back to reassure him that everything was all right.

“Indeed.” France acknowledged, finally having the chance to hold America better in his embrace and stand up to go and sit at the dinner table. “They are still upset, but I guess that one each is way more manageable.”

“Yeah,” England approved, leaving a soft kiss on the top of Canada’s head before following his lover. “You must have gotten really scared, didn’t you?” He added softly to his son, who could only nod and sniff in answer.

Noticing his brother’s silent reply, however, America just hid his face against France’s chest even more, now crying freely and way louder than before.

“C’mon, honey, nothing happened~” France did his best to comfort the desperate child nation, caressing his hair as he cuddled him. “ _Maman France_ prepared a delicious soup; don’t you want to try it?”

“No!” America countered however, still crying all the tears he had left.

“If you finish it up, there will be your adored apple charlotte, are you _really_ sure you don’t want to try?” France was quick to add however, glad that he had thought about preparing a pie along with their dinner.

Hearing the proposition, America’s crying tuned down to a weak sniffling, something that France interpreted as an agreement. Noticing France’s success, England sighed in relief and reorganised the sitting disposition so that he and France could sit next to one another and feed the children at the same time, since they had apparently no intention to let them go despite the truce.

When they were both ready at the dining table and had arranged the kids to sit on their tights, they could finally attempt to give them their soup and eat something themselves.

The children were already old enough to eat by themselves in all honesty, but apparently no one of them had any intention to eat on his own that evening. And France and England had no real strength of will to insist with them as long as they accepted to be fed, something that was however a bit difficult to do considering that the children had their faces still half hidden against their fathers’ chests and kept sniffling between one spoon of soup and the other.

It was then only with some difficulty that they eventually managed get the four of them through the whole dinner, so they could finally attempt cheering the kids up with the apple pie. After the last failed attempt to put America down on his own seat, however, France just sat up with his son still in his arms to get some slices of the dessert. Being similarly unsuccessful with Canada, England too secured the child better in his arms and went helping his lover.

“You stay out of the kitchen, _Angleterre_.” France admonished as soon as he noticed England’s movements, having had enough of his improvisations for the day.

“I don’t think I can create any damage just bringing the plates to the table, now!” England protested, despite looking a bit subdued considering the mess they had left downstairs.

“One would never know~” France countered, grinning at his lover in challenge.

As France cut up the pie, then, they ended up quarrelling with one another, something that calmed the children but also made both of them unable to acknowledge the presence of someone else in the room.

“What a lovely family picture.”

The cold words pronounced by a so familiar voice eventually managed to attract both lovers’ attention. What met their eyes was the slim figure of a tall woman with long red hair and cold green eyes, dressed in a short warrior tunic that could be nothing else but Celtic.

“Aunt Britannia?” France found himself asking, while at the same time England muttered faintly. “Mother?”

What they had just said in front of the older nation, however, managed to drag their attention slightly away from their current predicament.

“You know, _Angleterre_ , if we say it like that, it’s going to sound like we are related.” France complained, turning unsurely to his lover, who could just stare back at him with his same doubtful expression plastered on his face.

“But we _are_ related. First cousins once removed or something like that…” England simply deadpanned. “Why do you think Beltane worked so well with us?”

“Well, knowing it and saying it are not really the same thing,” France pointed out haughtily. “I’m still busy denying my blood ties with Italy, after all-”

“France and England are like America and I?” Canada labile voice interrupted France despite being barely audible, muffled like it was by the hard material of England’s waistcoat.

“Not really, love, we are far beyond that.” England explained to him kindly, offering Canada a soft smile that didn’t go unnoticed to his mother.

“Yeah, it’s a completely different situation!! Besides, it would be hard finding nations you are absolutely not related to, nowadays~” France hastened to add with a weak laugh, apparently understanding the reason behind Canada’s question better than anyone else in the room.

“ _Beyond_ is an understatement, there’s basically nothing Celt left on you.” Another female voice reprimanded the couple, bringing finally their attention back to their current predicament and, in particular, to the second woman they had not noticed before. She was dressed with a short warrior tunic just like her companion, but she had instead long blond head and piercing violet eyes.

“Mother!” France could only yell in happiness as soon as he recognised her, rather surprised by her presence there and barely managing to contain his joy. All he wanted to do was to run towards her and hold her tight, but he wasn’t really sure that it would have been a good idea considering Britannia’s proximity.

“W- what are you doing here?” He simply asked, then, his cheeks lightly reddening as he attempted to hide his happiness at seeing his mother once again.

“First things first.” Gallia answered him instead, eyeing with suspicion the two baby nations in France and England’s arms. “Who are they?”

“W- we are taking care of them!” England hastened to say as he put himself in front of his lover, not really sure that France would be able to keep quiet in front of the children.

Gallia and Britannia’s eyes stared dubiously at England, who could just swallow in proud guilt at their severe –and quite predictable- judgement. That it had been a lie, truth to be told, was obvious to everyone in the room except America, who after some failed attempts to understand what was going on simply put his thumb in his mouth and relaxed against France’s chest, inherently trusting the older nation to tell him if something was wrong.

“And how you came to _take care of them_ , I would ask.” Britannia teased with not insignificant mirth, crossing her arms on her chest.

“Well England and I got drunk during Beltane and he-” France’s honest explanation was quickly interrupted by England, who put a firm hand on his mouth in order to prevent him to say too much in front of the kids.

“- _we_ conquered their lands.” England finished off for him, glaring back at his lover and scaring both America and Canada with his sudden movement.

Luckily, America’s tightening his hold on France’s shirt in fear and Canada’s quiet whimpering were enough to make England realise that he had better quit it, and he immediately released his lover.

“I’m really sorry, love~” England told Canada, holding the child nation tighter in his arms as he caressed the top of his head.

“It’s because you are always a violent hooligan.” France took his chance to point out as he tightened his hold on America too, in order to prevent the child nation to resume crying like his brother.

Both Gallia and Britannia could just sigh at their son’s weak attempts to calm their children as well as hiding their identity.

“It’s because someone messed up with magic,” Gallia eventually offered them, earning confused stares from both England and France. “The reason we are here, I mean. Someone mixed in the weirdest way possible the recipes for a love potion and a deadly venom. Just to make it worse, they then chanted an evocation over it, somehow creating a field that teleported us here.”

France’s stare moved from his mother to his lover, then, only to rise a dubious eyebrow at him.

“ _Angleterre_ , _mon amour_ , care to explain what the hell were you doing?” France asked plainly, earning their mothers’ cautious stare on him at the French endearing term he had used.

“I- It’s none of your business!” England countered hastily, blushing heavily in guilty embarrassment and making France sigh at his poor answer.

“It’s going to be his business too since you two are going to go downstairs and find a way to reverse this temporal mess.” Britannia countered coldly, staring back at her son with disappointment as she had the final proof that England had been the one messing up the enchantment.

France attempted to picture the implications of Britannia’s statement in his mind, and he didn’t like at all what he had imagined. He changed his grip on America so that he could hold him properly with one arm, then, and took a firm grasp of the serving plate with the apple charlotte with his now free hand.

“Why don’t we discuss this in front of a nice piece of cake?” He offered completely out of the blue, barely managing to pretend a fake outgoing smile that didn’t falter even when America stretched tentatively to grab a piece of the apple charlotte, and he had to cautiously keep it far away from the child nation’s reach.

“France?” England asked him, understanding nothing of what his lover was up to, distracted as he followed quietly with his eyes America’s failing attempts to get the pie.

The only answer France granted to his unfocussed lover was hitting his leg with his heel to shut him up, before walking quickly towards the dining table under the confused stare of his mother and aunt. Since the only thing he could do was getting along with the situation, England just rolled his eyes at France’s violent approach, grabbed some forks for the pie and followed his lover, taking care not to hurt Canada with them in the meantime.

Both lovers sat down with their kids on their tights like when they were having dinner not many minutes before, and then France happily began distributing pie to everyone, inviting the two female nations to join them without any fear. Britannia, sporting an expression as confused as England’s, unexpectedly followed his instructions soon followed by Gallia, who couldn’t help but to stare knowingly at her own son's machinations.

During the whole dessert truce, the only one actively attempting to keep up the conversation with some random inane topics was France. His behaviour added to his mother’s suspicions but also finally managed to calm down the kids, who eventually finished their slice of pie on their own and, soon after that, dismounted from their parents’ laps to go play in the nearby room, where France and England could still watch over them.

As soon as America and Canada were out of the way, Gallia was the first one to address her son seriously.

“France, what the hell is this.”

“We didn’t tell the kids that we are their actual parents.” France admitted obediently, lowering his head in defeat.

“They are not born in our country, but where we’ve conquered new lands… The situations is quite complicated.” England added, taking his chance to take a firm hold of France’s hand beneath the table as he stared back at him. “As it’s complicated between us.”

“It can’t be nothing else than complicated. If there’s one of my children who I would have never guessed would give me grandchildren, it’s you.” Britannia noted coldly, making England blush scarlet in shame and lower his eyes. “And certainly not with a descendent of the Roman Empire.”

“Aunt Britannia,” France eventually found the courage to counter. “England is a mess in many things he does: he messes up with magic, he can’t cook, he is violent and possessive-”

“Oi, you…” England interrupted France’s list, only to have his lover smiling back at him before he continued.

“-but he is basically the world’s strongest nation. I’m glad that my history is so involved with his that we can still manage a relationship and a family together, and this despite the ongoing wars between us~”

“France…” England couldn’t help himself muttering as he smiled back at his lover, his hand tightening around France’s.

“So… You _still_ _are_ two separate and independent nations.” Gallia noted curiously, attempting to understand in what kind of mess the two young nations had put themselves. “No wonder they were born outside your lands.”

“Well, yes, for the moment.” France admitted merrily, giving his attention back to his mother. “Even though we are still trying to get one another and the rest of the world on daily basis~”

“Well, I have enough of this pitiful display of Romance drama.” Britannia concluded abruptly, standing up to glare down at France and England, who could just stare up at her worried. “It looks to me that France has just gotten the worst out of his grandfather, and that you fell at his feet after some desserts and the worst kind of sweet talking!”

“I’m one of the strongest nations in the world, as France explained to you, and he is not much different!” England countered, standing up he himself to glare back at his own mother at eye level. “ _What else_ do you want from me!?”

“Dignity.” Britannia bit back to her son, effectively crushing his pride with a single word. “Something you never had.”

“Aunt Britannia…” Was all Gallia and France could say staring up at the scene in front of them, none of them really knowing how to stop the fight.

“Why don’t we just focus on getting back to our time?” Gallia eventually offered, attempting to sound reasonable before staring back at her son for support. “I think that the best thing to do for us is to allow you have your own life.”

“Nothing more predictable from a Roman province.” Britannia protested, only to have her niece glare back at her.

“We have honestly missed _too much_ of the kids’ history to judge them like this.” Gallia pointed out, earning Britannia’s reluctant nod in her direction. “We _need_ to go.”

“I agree,” France took his chance to add in support of his mother, despite not really wanting to let her go so soon. “But I can’t help England with it, I have no magic left.”

“That’s quite obvious to us,” Gallia answered him attempting to sound more reasonable than annoyed by the plain admission. “That’s why _you_ are the only one that can support England. We would just interfere.”

France stared back at England, then, right before he looked towards the nearby room, where Canada and America were playing. That was enough to make all the others understand easily _why_ France was so unwilling to go helping England downstairs.

“Oh, c’mon! How old are they?” Britannia quipped in annoyance. “They are nations: they can’t die unless someone attacks their lands and annihilate them! Besides, only if they manage to get through the troubles alone, they can learn how to get stronger and how to deal with problems by themselves! It’s _healthy_ leaving them on their own!”

“Well, now…” Gallia was the first one to protest, realising that her aunt was not wrong, but also that her approach was maybe a bit too drastic.

“It’s not like you have to keep them shielded from everything, but…” France attempted with no better results to add to his mother’s reasoning, sharing his mother’s same feelings on the matter.

Eventually, both France and Gallia just stared briefly at one another before sighing in defeat. Unfortunately, despite sharing Britannia’s approach in theory, any attempt to put it into practice had never worked out too well with both of them.

England, instead, felt no qualms running straight to the other room in order to hug his children for dear life, much to America and Canada’s surprise.

“England?” Both child nations asked, startled by the unpredicted drive, only to be held even tighter by their father.

“I will never leave you alone, my darlings!” England whined in desperation, earning for it France’s adoring smile and Gallia’s resigned sigh.

“C’mon, _mon amour_ , you are scaring them~” France offered his lover, eventually walking quietly towards his family to extricate the children from their English father’s embrace and reassure them that everything was fine. “ _Maman_ France and _papa_ England are going to be downstairs for a while to fix the damage _papa_ has done, will you be good children until we come back? _Mémé Gallia_ and _mémé Britannia_ will keep an eye on you.”

“Yes, France~” Both America and Canada answered diligently, only to be hugged even more by England for how cute they were despite France’s ongoing attempts at keeping him away from them. It looked so much like their current foreign policy that France could just roll his eyes at their pitiful efforts at being proper parents.

“C’mon _, mon amour_ , my mother will keep an eye on yours.” France whispered condescendingly to his lover, then, kissing quickly the top of their children’s head before finally dragging England away from them.

As he passed by his mother, however, he offered her a pleading stare, silently hoping that she could help him to keep a firm hold of the situation. Gallia resignedly nodded at her son, and followed his movements with her eyes as he literally dragged his still complaining lover downstairs.

As soon as the two female nations were alone with their grandsons, however, Britannia could only glare back at her niece.

“I hope you don’t have honestly any intention to check on the two brats.” She quipped in anger. “Our sons turned out as spineless as any Roman, and their children don’t look any different!”

“They fell in love with one another and managed to get the chance to rise their family together, are they to be condemned only because they had it nicer than us?” Gallia answered back to her aunt just as coldly, before she turned to offer a warm smile to the two child nations who were staring up at them curiously.

“Hi, darlings, I’m your grandma Gallia,” She offered kindly, kneeling in front of them to ruffle their hair. “Don’t worry about your grumpy grandma Britannia, she is nicer than she seems~”

Both children giggled at Gallia’s words and gestures, which conversely earned from Britannia only a disappointed growl.

“Will you play with us?” America took his chance to ask enthusiastically, rushing straight in his grandmother Gallia’s embrace no differently than he would have done with France. “France and England were too busy today, we were getting bored!”

“Don’t you have any game you can do together or any toys you would like to play with?” Gallia asked surprised, rising an inquiring eyebrow to her grandson.

“That’s for when we are alone!” America protested, pouting in disappointment, his big light blue eyes looking even bluer because of the red contouring them after all his crying that day. His childish determination, however, earned him easily Gallia’s quiet laugh and a gentle caress on his hair.

“France and England spoiled you rotten, didn’t they?” Gallia commented almost to herself before standing up once again and rummaging inside the satchel she had tightened at her waist, only to get out of there a wooden eagle –complete with fake feathers- and some miniatures of Roman insignia.

“What about playing _Caesar searching for his legions disrupted by the Gauls_?” She then offered to her grandson with a big –and quite evil- grin. “The one who has the eagle is Caesar, the others have to stop him from finding his legions~”

America’s eyes had already gotten larger in surprise seeing the wooden eagle, but at the proposal of a new game they started shining in delight even more.

“Yeah!!” He yelled happily, grabbing a firm hold of his grandmother’s hand to drag her to the big garden in front of the house. “Canada!! Hurry up!!” He added for his brother before he disappeared outside.

Canada, however, stared for a moment at the retreating backs of his brother and grandmother before looking up to Britannia, his polar bear now tightened securely in his embrace.

“You _really_ are our grandmas, aren’t you?” He asked quietly. “Our fathers are your sons like we are theirs…”

Britannia’s eyebrows rose in cautious surprise and she found herself smiling back at the small child despite her better judgement.

“You are the smart one, then.” She commented, as she crossed her arms on her chest, curious to see what the child nation wanted to tell her.

“Not really, I just speak French…” Canada admitted shyly, blushing scarlet and staring down at Kumajiro’s head. “Dad France is not really attempting to hide it…”

“ _Dad_ France? I thought he was calling himself your _mother_.”

“It’s dad England that started it. He thinks that a good mother should be like dad France…” Canada confessed almost inaudibly. “ _I_ think that’s really stupid: even though we call him _mother_ he still is our _father_ …”

“England doesn’t really know what he is talking about.” Britannia cut short, annoyed by the reference to her own son, only to earn her grandson’s innocent eyes back on her.

“ _Why_ doesn’t he know?”

The child nation’s honest question shocked quite a bit Britannia, who however was quite ready to recompose her expression to one of firmness and coldness almost instantly.

“Do you know what nations are supposed to do?” She asked him back, barely waiting few seconds for the question to sink in before continuing her speech. “Fight against their own blood, against the ones they love. And then die, usually to give their children the chance to grow up and with that losing everything they had fought for. Creating bonds it’s counterproductive, for all the parties involved.”

Canada could just stare up at the proud nation in front of him, noticing the same sadness that sometime he had seen in his English father’s eyes whenever France wasn’t there with them.

Recognising the problem, however, he was certain to know how to deal with it.

He offered her a big happy smile, then, successfully making her cold eyes grow bigger in surprise at the abrupt change in behaviour. He let go of his polar bear and run to the corner where his toys had been put aside, and after some rummaging retrieved what he was searching for.

He rushed back to his grandmother and looked up at her bashfully, as he hid what he had gathered behind his back to prevent Britannia seeing it before time. Seeing his serious and determined expression and his awkward position eventually made even Britannia’s frown melt into some sort of honest smile.

“If related and friend nations are bound to fight one another and die, shouldn’t it be better to enjoy what you have while you can?” Canada asked her hesitantly. “Our dads will soon bring you back when you come from, why can’t we enjoy the only chance we have to be together?”

Right then America’s voice echoed once again, coming from the outside.

“Caanaadaaa!! I’m playing Caesar if you don’t come here _right now_!!” The child nation was yelling with all the breath he had in his lungs. “We are already hiding the legions!”

“The _insignia_ of the legions!” Gallia’s correction echoed soon after, despite her fit of giggles at hearing America’s enthusiastic words.

Hearing that the game was about to begin made Canada even more willing to reach his brother, but certainly not before he had finished telling what he wanted to say to his Briton grandmother, and had persuaded her to play with them. He closed the few feet that still divided them, then, and signalled her with one hand to get down to his level.

As soon as the older nation obliged him, Canada was quick putting what he had retrieved in her hands, not before he had grinned widely up at her no differently than his brother would have done in his place.

“So when you get back you will still have something to remind you of today~” He finished his speech quickly, before leaving an astonished Britannia in favour to get his polar bear back in his arms and finally reach America and Gallia.

When Britannia had the chance to look at what Canada had given her, she was quite surprised to see a white lily, a red rose, an orange maple leaf and an oak tree leaf tightened together by a red cord. Looking down at the innocent present, she found herself unable to not to laugh at how her grandson had basically attempted to offer her a different approach to deal with her whole family.

That made her think from another prospective at the whole situation, though.

The child certainly was perceptive, but they had just barely met. He must have recognised a situation he was already quite used seeing… She didn’t really need to think too much about it that the hurt expression of her own son asking her what he was supposed to do to make her happy materialised in her mind.

“I’ve been an idiot.” Britannia realised, staring down sadly at the plants in her hand. What better metaphor could her grandson chose if not something that symbolised them but would be also quick to wither?

She stared back at the stairs that led downstairs from which she could barely hear England and France yelling at one another, and then stood up to walk quietly outside, where Gallia was making the children play that stupid game she had made up originally just to annoy her father.

When she exited the house, she saw America easily lifting a rock to check if the insignia were hidden beneath it, only to earn a satisfied and gleeful clap of her hands from his grandmother for his strength and yells about playing dirty from his brother.

As soon as Gallia noticed Britannia by the door, however, she offered her a warm and knowing smile.

“I’m not planning to monopolise our grandchildren, do you want to join?” The younger female nation yelled at her merrily. “Our Celtic pride is at stake~”

Britannia just shook her head at her niece’s drama, but eventually joined the group, only to be warmly welcomed by the two child nations, who took their chance to explain her the story behind the game until then.

* * *

It was only several hours after that that France and England finally re-emerged from the depth of the cellar, the amount of ashes they were covered in indicating that they had managed to re-create the magical mistake quite effectively. What met their eyes as soon as they were back to the living quarters, however, was a scene that quite surprised both of them.

Their children were deeply asleep on the sofa, America clutching tightly his brother from behind. At their left there was a similarly sleeping Gallia sitting on her side, with her long legs crooked against her belly while her head rested on her shoulder, her arm long on the backrest just above the children. At the children’s right there was Britannia, the only one sitting properly and looking quite awake despite the bored expression plastered on her face as she watched over the children sleeping.

The family picture managed to steal a quick warm smile from France, but at the same time set England back into panic, making him rush towards the sofa to check that the kids were still in one piece.

“God, tell me they are fine!” He muttered as he knelt down in front of them and caressed kindly their heads before checking them for injuries.

“Do you really believe that I would hurt my own grandchildren?” Was all Britannia could say to her son, only to earn England hateful glare on her.

“You don’t need to hurt them, you will just leave them on their own!” He bit back angrily, barely noticing a fleeting sparkle of hurt in his mother’s eyes.

Before things could get off their hands, France was quick kneeling behind his lover to embrace him tight and leave a kind kiss on his cheek.

“C’mon, _mon cher_ , the children look fine to me. They are just tired.” He offered, successfully making England relax in his arms, his back firm against his lover’s chest. 

Britannia just sighed at the scene and stood up, managing to wake up Gallia with her sudden movement but not the two child nations.

“If you managed to re-create the displacement we should go while the children are asleep, so you can keep on that stupid charade about you four not being related by blood.” Britannia quipped, hastily signalling her niece to get up and follow her with a nod of her head. Gallia took her time to leave a kind kiss on the top of both children’s head, though, leaving on purpose next to America one of the feathers that adorned the wooden eagle they had played with the whole afternoon.

“I’m glad we had the chance to meet them,” She said to France as she stood up to reach her aunt. “They are really great kids, I wouldn’t have expected nothing less from my grandchildren~”

Noticing that his mother was ready to go, France released England from his embrace to do what he had wanted to do during the whole afternoon. He hugged tightly Gallia, then, who could simply stare surprised back at him.

“ _Je t’aime tant bien, maman_ …” He managed to mutter eventually, successfully getting his mother to hold him back.

“I love you too, sweetheart. I’m proud of you~” She answered him, before leaving a kind kiss on his forehead and disentangle from him. “If you really manage to make the children think that this was a dream, I hope it will be at least a nice dream.”

“You just need to go downstairs, in a short while the potion will change consistency and re-create the field that will bring you back.” England took his chance to explain to the two female nations, attempting without success to hide his jealousy at France and Gallia’s relationship.

Noticing England’s discomfort, however, Gallia smiled sadly back at her cousin and went to hug him too.

“Thanks, England, I knew we could count on you.” She offered him, only managing to make him blush scarlet at the unexpected kindness.

“I- It’s really n- nothing! I made the mess in the f- first place…” England stuttered in embarrassment.

“We are proud of you too, even though Britannia will never admit it~” Gallia took her chance to whisper in his ear, before releasing him and directing herself downstairs like she wasn’t saying her goodbyes at all.

Gallia’s words had left England a bit doubtful, however, leading him to stare back at his own mother, who was looking at him clearly at a loss about what to say as she played with something in her hands. At a closer look, he realised that it was nothing less than one of the cheer-you-up bouquets Canada took out every time he got sad upon missing his lover.

“Did Canada give you that?” He asked plainly, not really understanding why his son would do such a thing.

“Yes, I think I should give it back-” Britannia attempted to answer, before being interrupted by her slightly angered son.

“He has enough of those in his reserves. If he gave you the bouquet, you should keep it.”

“Does he have plenty of them stashed away because he usually gives them to you?” Britannia asked him seriously. “Perhaps, whenever your France is not with you?”

“I wasn’t aware that children were not allowed to cheer up their fathers, among other things.” England quipped annoyed, lowering his eyes in proud defeat. “You should go, now.”

Britannia just sighed at England’s behaviour and walked towards him, in order to leave a gentle kiss on his forehead. England’s eyes shot open in surprise and he stared back at his mother, not really knowing why she would do that.

“Never think that I don’t love you, England, even though I’m hard with you.” She admitted eventually, before turning her back to his son and walking towards the stairs to reach Gallia. Before going downstairs, however, she stopped right next to France to put something in his hand.

What his mother had confessed him was so shocking for the island nation that he came to only when France joined him once again and put his arm around his shoulders to hold him close.

“You are still in time to say goodbye properly to her.” He proposed kindly, only to have England simply shaking his head at his proposition.

“I can’t really start missing my mother after all these years… Not after I basically grew up having any.” England admitted, draping his arms around France’s waist before hiding his face against his chest. “You are enough for me now, as much as you were enough for me back then.”

“Still, I think you should have this.” France said, showing his lover a medal over which was engraved the image of a woman in warrior clothes. “I’m quite sure she meant it for you.”

“The Goddess Britannia.” England realised, taking the coin of metal France was showing his. “The warrior that protects the unity of the British Isles.”

“It’s a nice message to leave to you,” France offered with a smile. “One day it might come in handy.”

“Let’s hope it won’t,” England answered him, putting the medal in the breast pocket of his waistcoat before holding closer to France. “But if that time comes, I hope you will keep being at my side.”

“No doubt about it, _mon cher_ ~” France answered promptly, moving so that he could face England properly. “Do you want me to turn that medal into a necklace?”

“Yes, please.” England admitted, a bit embarrassed that France had anticipated so quickly his request.

“No matter what will happen,” The French nation took his chance to tell England, noticing his insecurities. “I will always find a way to be at your side, even when we’ll go opposite ways.”

Reassured by France’s words, England simply closed his eyes and moved up to meet France’s lips in a chaste kiss that his lover quickly answered with his same drive. He was just about to attempt asking him to deepen it, when a young voice distracted both nations.

“England? France?” America’s sleepy voice came from the sofa. “I’m hungry~”

America had sat up with difficulty and was currently attempting without much success to get the sleep away from his eyes between a loud yawn and another. Both parents found themselves smiling at the picture he made, even more so when Canada attempted to pat him quiet as he turned to hide his face against the soft cushion beneath him and just keep sleeping.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” England reassured them, as he went to rescue America before Canada could put more efforts into his attempt to make him shut up, whilst France directed him straight to the kitchen to start on dinner.

“Dinner will be ready soon!”

France’s words reassured the still quite asleep America, who could then finally do his best to remember what they had been up to during the afternoon.

“Where are grandma Gallia and Britannia?” He asked to his English father at a certain point, making him shudder at the direct question.

“They disappeared many years ago, America~” He attempted to offer with a strained smile that didn’t really reach his eyes. “Were you dreaming about them?”

England’s answer earned Canada’s sleepy stare back at him. In answer to his father’s words, he rose an inquisitive eyebrow back at him, not really believing that he was honestly attempting to deny everything. Since he seemed quite serious, however, he just rolled his eyes at his hopelessness and turned his back to him in order to keep sleeping. He was too tired to reprimand his father and explain the truth to his brother: one day both of them would grow up, but probably today wasn’t that day.

America, on the other hand, just blinked confused up at his father, conflicted between believing him – why wouldn’t he trust England, after all? - and the firm knowledge that their afternoon had been quite real. Eventually he just smiled back at his father and dismounted from England’s tights to wake up his brother and have a second opinion on the matter.

As he did so, however, he found next to where he had been sleeping a feather similar in all to the ones that adorned the wooden eagle of Caesar they had played with together with Gallia and Britannia.

Then it had been real… So, why was England lying? He looked at his brother, unsure if he should share what he had found out with him or not, and then stared once again back at the feather. 

“Is something wrong?” England asked America eventually, noticing how he had suddenly stopped to stare at something he couldn’t see from his position.

Feeling guilty for no reason at all, America just hid the feather under his shirt, before just throwing himself over Canada to wake him up as he had intended to, this time with no real purpose to it.

As he kept molesting his brother, America came to the conclusion that he would have talked with Canada about that afternoon later on but, for the moment, he just wanted to keep his secret only his for some more time.

* * *

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> Crack spoiler: America will never talk with Canada about it, because it would have meant share the feather and he didn’t want to. His choice to have an eagle as symbol of the country is in truth meant to tell England he is a liar and he knows it. (just joking)


End file.
